


Stress Relief

by LaughingStones



Series: PRT verse [2]
Category: Motorcity
Genre: Angst, Butt Plugs, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Hurt No Comfort, Kane PoV, M/M, Mind Games, Nipple Torture, Orgasm Denial, Sexual Slavery, let me know if I missed a tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-11
Updated: 2018-03-11
Packaged: 2019-03-27 16:00:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13884252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaughingStones/pseuds/LaughingStones
Summary: When Abraham’s day goes well, he uses his private physical relief technician to celebrate. When it goes badly, he uses him for stress relief. It might be hard sometimes for an observer to tell the difference between the two, but either way, Abraham enjoys himself (and Chilton doesn't).*Takes place a couple weeks before the events of Never Quite Thought We Could Lose It All.





	Stress Relief

Abraham ends the fifth pleasing call in a row and considers whether to round out the streak by having a talk with Carson, the current head of R&D. No, best to leave that for later, since it's sure to be disappointing news in comparison with the rest.

Smiling, he turns to the silent second occupant of his office and says, “Enjoying yourself, Technician?”

Chilton looks over at him, thin-lipped, and says nothing. Time for another round of training, perhaps. It's taking a good deal of effort to get the rules through his stubborn skull, but progress is being made. He doesn't try to fight anymore when Abraham touches him, has finally learned the suffering isn't worth it for how little effect it has. He's bruised and cuffed and exhausted, in no condition to put up an effective fight, but it still took him over a week to figure that out.

“Come here,” Abraham says, and Chilton looks straight in front of him and doesn't move. Abraham gives him a moment, in fairness, before getting up and going over to where he leans against the wall. Smiling slightly, Abraham stands directly in front of him.

“What happens when you disobey me, Technician Chilton?”

“The same thing that would happen if I didn't,” Chilton says hoarsely.

“Don't be ridiculous,” Abraham says, reaching into Chilton’s open shorts and pulling out his half-hard dick, stroking it roughly so Chilton shudders at the mingled pleasure and discomfort. “You wouldn't be punished if you obeyed me. But you've never tried it, so you wouldn't know.”

“And I'm not going to,” Chilton says through his teeth.

“Oh, you will eventually,” Abraham says. “When you're tired of hurting all the time.” He grabs Chilton’s cuffed wrists and shoves him over to the massive desk, pushes him back against it. Pulling Chilton’s shorts down to his thighs, Abraham reaches into a drawer and pulls out a little leather strap, smiles at the almost inaudible hitch in Chilton’s breath that from anyone else would be a whimper.

The look on Chilton’s face when Abraham reaches around him and turns on the vibrating plug in his ass is even more pleasing, a sullen, desperate fury.

“There we are,” Abraham says. “We'll let you wake up a bit.” He strokes Chilton’s dick slowly, teasing, letting Chilton’s needy body do most of the work. Despite giving him more sex than Chilton’s probably ever had in his life, Abraham has been very careful not to let him come thus far. Pleasure is a powerful tool, and he's saving it up to be most effective.

Another sign of progress: Chilton twitches and pants under his hands, teeth gritted, but doesn't tell him _no, stop, don't_ over and over again. It was enjoyable in some ways, but Abraham doesn't like being told what to do, and it seemed best to break Chilton of that little habit right away.

He gets hard as fast as always, and Abraham cinches the strap around the base of Chilton’s dick and his balls, enjoying the low noise Chilton cuts off, the unsteady way he drags in his next breath.

Opening Chilton’s little vest, Abraham tugs it halfway down his bound arms and smiles at the bruises around his nipples, darker and clustered thicker every day.

“I've thought about piercing these,” he muses, pinching one battered nipple and squeezing gradually harder until Chilton groans between his teeth. “But of course that would make them trickier to play with without ruining them, which would be a shame.” He lets go of that one, tweaks the other sharply. “The visual appeal is undeniable, though. Bars or maybe little rings to hang things from. It's a difficult decision.”

Chilton doesn't answer, is looking fixedly past him out the window again, the muscles in his jaw twitching. It's annoying when he pretends to ignore Abraham. It helps solidify the next move in Abraham’s mind.

Chilton stiffens slightly when Abraham undoes his belt, pulls it out of the belt loops. Yes, there are so many possibilities that start that way, and he doesn't know which one's coming. Abraham hasn't done this before, either, Chilton won't be expecting it.

Coiling the excess in his hand, Abraham holds a short length of belt and snaps it across Chilton’s chest, carefully aimed. Chilton doesn't quite manage to bite back the cry. He does better on the next few strokes, only stifled grunts escaping, but it's not as though Abraham’s going to be satisfied with that. Chilton keeps misbehaving, and he's going to feel the consequences. Until he's sobbing, if Abraham has his way.

“Perhaps this will teach you to obey my orders and answer my questions,” he says.

“Fat chance,” Chilton gasps, and Abraham pauses, reaches up to nudge one dark red, swollen nub gently back and forth. Chilton bites his lip, breathing hard through his nose.

“You'll break eventually, Mike,” Abraham tells him quietly. “Easier to give in and obey now, avoid the unnecessary pain.”

Chilton bares his teeth. “Never. I'm not giving in to you, ever.”

“Easy to say,” Abraham says, pinching both nipples and holding them, watching Chilton’s face go tight with pain, the dark eyes squeezing shut like that might help. “But I can leave you with that plug vibrating for hours, and you won't come like this. It'll start to hurt after a while, and I won't turn it off. And then I'll turn you over to Red, let him fuck you, let him stuff you with whatever objects he's found since last time.” Abraham keeps his eyeroll over that little fetish internal. At least Red knows now he's not allowed to use anything rough or sharp-edged; his found toys have to be reasonably narrow and smooth. If anyone’s going to break Chilton so hard he becomes unusable, it's going to be Abraham.

“When your ass hurts so you can barely walk and your whole body aches,” he goes on, “you'd have pretty stupid to provoke another beating. I think you're smarter than that.”

“I think you're wrong,” Chilton says, his breathing harsh. His eyes crack open to glare. “I still won't obey you.”

“And after weeks of the same treatment? After I've given you to my executives for a reward, and Red’s had you to himself for a good long time, and I've had you here to do whatever I want with _every_ _day_ \--you think you won't learn to open your mouth when I do this?” He lets go with one hand, raises it to brush a thumb over Chilton’s lips, press slightly as they tighten and Chilton tries to pull his head away. “You think you'll still prefer another layer of bruises to bending over when I tell you to?”

Chilton doesn't answer, glaring off to one side with Abraham’s thumb stroking idly over his lips. Despite his claims of being untamable, he makes no attempt to bite.

“Hmm.” Abraham pulls his hands away, readies his belt again. “Well, I suppose we'll find out.”

This time Chilton can't stay quiet. As each strike lands on bruised and battered flesh, he groans and gasps and cries out, and it doesn't take much more before tears of pain are coming down his cheeks. It makes the snarl twisting his mouth, the fury in his dark eyes, that much more delicious.

Abraham stops, reaches down to stroke the flat of the belt along Chilton’s dick, enjoying the way his eyes widen uncertainly, the way his hips twitch as if unsure whether to hold still or pull away. Abraham’s done that before, tied him down and delicately whipped his dick until Chilton cried. The shock on his face was a wonderful sight.

At the moment Abraham has more straightforward plans. Setting his belt down on the desk, he rubs his thumb over Chilton’s lower lip, considering him. Chilton tries to pull away and when Abraham’s hand just goes with him he stops, breathing hard and glaring.

“If you go on your knees and suck me off,” Abraham says, and ignores the bared teeth and the scoffing noise, “I'll take the plug out when you're done, and I won't fuck you today. If you refuse, I'll fuck you and then put the plug back in and leave it turned on for the next few hours… and then I'll give you to Red for an hour or two.”

Chilton’s wet eyes widen and instead of snapping back immediately that he'll never do what Abraham wants, he _hesitates_. For several long breaths, he stares at Abraham, visibly struggling with himself.

Then something in his face shifts, Abraham can't tell what, and he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and opens them again, sharp and hard on Abraham’s. “No. Forget it, I won't.”

It's a disappointment, of course, but the fact that he hesitated first, that's a victory. Abraham smiles at him.

“Well, it's your choice, Technician. Turn around.”

Chilton just bares his teeth, of course, and Abraham has to turn him and shove him down across the desk himself. He frees Chilton’s hands to get them out of the way and Chilton groans, shifting his arms cautiously. They probably ache, having been pulled back by the cuffs for hours.

Abraham opens his own pants and slicks up, pulls the plug out of Chilton and turns it off. Now is the moment when Chilton would have flipped over to try to escape or fight, a week ago. Instead, he lies still, fingers flexing on the edge of the desk.

Smiling, Abraham pushes in and begins to thrust. Chilton’s breath hitches and catches and he makes little cut off noises, trying to hide his desperation, how much he needs this. 

It's intriguing how he can stifle himself in pleasure, but not in certain types of pain. Beat him, slam him into walls and he just grunts, spank or belt him and he'll gasp for breath, but torment his dick and he'll be whimpering within five minutes. Fuck him and he's practically silent, though he was loud enough the first few times. He learned to muffle himself quickly. Not something Abraham is really pleased about, but he hasn't bothered to address it in training yet; there are more important matters to have clear first.

Like obedience. “You know if you obeyed me,” he says, voice only a little rough from pleasure, “it would be easy to win certain privileges. Like having your arms free most of the time. Or coming at least once a day. You'd like to come, wouldn't you?”

There's no answer but Chilton’s harsh breathing. Abraham didn't really expect anything different.

“You could be smart about this,” he goes on. “You have the power to change your situation, but if you refuse to, you have only yourself to blame for the results.”

Under him, Chilton makes an incoherent snarling noise, his body jerking. Abraham reaches around him and finds one nipple, flicking it gently back and forth so Chilton hisses.

“You'll figure it out in time,” Abraham says. “We just have to overcome that stubborn nature of yours.”

If Chilton has a response to that, he doesn't let it out, and Abraham stops talking and just enjoys himself. By the time he's close, Chilton’s clutching the edge of the desk with rigid fingers, muscles tense with desperation, and he lets out a shaky breath like a subvocal whimper when Abraham comes and stops moving.

Very satisfying.

Pulling out, Abraham slides the plug back into Chilton, smiles to himself and turns it on high, a buzzing whine. Chilton jerks, a thin noise forced out between his teeth. It's too much at once, overstimulation riding the edge of pain, but he might still manage to come if he weren't wearing that strap. That's why he'll be wearing it for at least another hour.

Abraham smacks him casually on the ass and starts cleaning himself up. “I did warn you,” he points out. “You made the choice of your own volition, Technician.”

Chilton doesn't even bother to argue--or possibly can't speak, given the way he's gasping for breath, still bent over the desk like the intensity of the sensation has frozen him in place. Abraham considers the pleasing image for a couple of minutes, slipping his belt back through the belt loops and buckling it.

Then he puts a hand on Chilton’s back, feeling him shake and twitch. “Do you want it set lower, Mike?” he says quietly.

Chilton takes a rough breath, shuddering, and doesn't answer right away. Abraham waits a minute and just as Chilton seems about to speak, reaches between his legs and squeezes Chilton’s balls, not gently. Chilton yelps and his hips give an aborted jerk, trying get free, shake off the rough touch.

“Too bad,” Abraham says. He lets go to lean over Chilton, pinning him against the desk with his broader, heavier frame. “You lost me my daughter,” Abraham hisses, and Chilton freezes. “You deserve whatever suffering I feel like giving you.”

“You're the reason she had to break away from Deluxe,” Chilton gasps. “She still loves you, she wouldn't fight you if you'd stop trying to _kill_ people-- _ah!_ ”

“Don't think you can weasel out of responsibility by blaming it on me,” Abraham snarls, and twists Chilton’s nipples until he's shaking, little pained noises tearing out of him. When he finally lets go and straightens up again, Chilton slumps on the desk, back heaving as he pants for breath.

Abraham takes a breath himself, wrestling his rage back down to the place where it lives, always awake, always influencing his actions but not controlling them. It may have a lot more influence now than it did a few weeks ago, but he can still rule himself. He won't break Chilton yet. There's a lot more satisfaction in bending him gradually, getting as much use out of him as possible before finally destroying him completely and throwing the shattered wreck of him away. The process will probably take a year at least, and Abraham might drag it out to two, depending on how enjoyable he finds it.

Grabbing Chilton’s arms, Abraham pulls them behind his back, ignoring his struggles, and locks the cuffs together again. Then he hauls Chilton up off the desk by one arm, pulls his shorts up and closed over his hard dick and tugs his vest back into place, fastening it before swatting him hard on the ass. Chilton groans through his teeth, staggering a little as the impact rocks the buzzing plug into him.

“Out of my way, Technician, I have work to do,” Abraham says impatiently. “Go consider your choices. You have plenty of time; Red won't be by for at least a couple of hours.”

Chilton doesn't say anything, but his face goes satisfactorily tight. He takes a halting step, the breath hissing between his teeth, and makes his unsteady, wobbly-kneed way back to his wall, a good distance away from the desk. Abraham watches as he slides down the wall, goes to his knees instead of landing on his ass, and slumps back against the wall, eyes closed, jaw set.

Eventually he'll bend far enough to lose that stubborn pride, and Abraham is going to enjoy every inch of what it'll take to get there. For the moment, though, he turns back to his work refreshed. Nothing like a little stress relief to raise personal productivity.


End file.
